“Hardly. It’s maintained,” was all he said. “Where do you think I’ve been disappearing to all those weekends when mother and father can’t get in touch with me?”
Silence fell. “Why didn’t your guards tell the crowns?”
Perry’s brow turned rumpled. “You call Philippe and Marianne ‘the crowns”?”
Xavier shrugged. “Sometimes, they’re more crown than parent.”
At that, she winced. “That seems rather harsh.”
“It’s fair. I love my parents, Perry, but sometimes, they have no choice but to be King and Queen above Mother and Father.”
She huffed at that. “I hope you know that’s total and utter bullshit, and if we’re lucky enough to have kids, and I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now, but if we do, then… Screw that. I’ll be a mother first, queen second.” She harrumphed to underscore her point.
Xavier laughed. “I wouldn’t argue with her, Edward. She sounds like she means business.”
Edward, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. As he pulled into the sweeping manor driveway, he reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I know. And I couldn’t be happier about that.”
Silence fell at his words. But he meant every single one of them.
He and George had been blessed with Marianne. Perhaps she was a little chilly, hardly demonstrative, but she loved her children. A veritable tigress when it came to her family, and her defense of them. But she was always the Queen. Always contemplated the importance of her position, put her duties at the top of the list of her priorities.
She was a marvelous Queen. Edward couldn’t fault her that. And as a mother, she was wonderful too. But for Perry to put their children first?
That was what he wanted.
More than anything.
He wanted their children to be the priority. As King, he was honest enough to admit to himself, at least, that he probably wouldn’t be able to do that. The position was too taxing, too all-encompassing to not overtake their family life. But he’d fight to make sure Perry had enough time for their children.
Perry cleared her throat. Almost as though she could read his thoughts and wanted to dispel them, avoid them for the moment. But there would be no avoiding such thoughts when they were wed.
Part of her role as his wife, Princess, and future Queen was providing the next heirs to the throne.
He wondered if she felt as overwhelmed by that task as he did.
Chapter Eight
Xavier ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the car.
Grosvenor House had been in the family for generations, and upon their grandfather’s death, Edward had inherited it at a very young nine years of age. Long before Edward had started to use it, however, the family had often visited during the summer.
Xavier recalled holidays in the long, summer days. Where the sun never seemed to stop shining, and the sky never failed to be anything other than periwinkle blue. George at his and Edward’s heels as they trundled all over the estate, adventuring and causing mischief in the rare time they had to themselves…
That had been back when their Grandfather had been alive and had been King.
King Xavier, for whom he’d been named, had been a tough bastard, but he’d been better at finding a work/life balance than his son or grandsons.
Though the drive had been short, he still felt cramped. Stretching out his arms, he grunted happily as his muscles responded to the gentle heat of being warmed up. A soft hand fell at the base of his spine, jolting him. He turned and caught Perry’s quick wink which was as fleeting as her gentle touch to his back.
Kicking himself for jumping like she’d frightened the life out of him, he murmured, “This is one of my favorite places in the whole world.”
“Seems like you both have a lot of those,” she teased, making Edward laugh.
Xavier cocked a brow, confused by the reference. His cousin just cleared his throat. “Your lake. Acquaevit, it’s one of my favorite places. I told Perry that the last time we were there.”
Considering the four of them had been swimming naked in Xavier’s ancestral land, he understood the snickers.
Grinning, he nodded. “You’ll find we’re all contradictory.”
Perry snorted. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? But tell me more. In what way are you?”
He shrugged. “I can guarantee, we all love each other’s inheritance more than our own.”
Edward, for once, laughed without sounding like he was in pain. The genuineness of his amusement had Perry’s eyes flaring wide with delight. She pressed her hand to Xavier’s back once more, her fingertips digging in slightly as she half-turned toward Edward, taking in his laughter like a flower preening in the sun’s rays.
Xavier couldn’t find it in himself to be jealous of the attention she was giving to his cousin. Not when she made sure she was connected to both of them.
That simple, basic touch of her palm to his lower back was a union of a different variety. One he could appreciate just as much as her attention.
He wished like hell he could reach for her wrist, to hold those frail, fine bones in his palm, and feel the pulse of her heart against his fingertips. But that wasn’t to be.
Not when they were outside, anyway. Not with the staff, undoubtedly looking on.
Instead of doing as his instincts clamored, he remained rather rigid before her.
“That kind of belly laugh means he’s right,” Perry pointed out with a quick smile.
Edward shook his head but said, “Yes,” making the pair of them laugh at the contradiction.
“Well? Which is it?” Perry demanded.
“George loves Xavier’s family estate. I’d have Haversham House in a heartbeat.”
Perry blinked, so Xavier, sensing her confusion, explained, “Haversham House is George’s seat.”
“George has a seat?” she asked carefully, and his lips twitched at her bewilderment.
Not that he found her confusion in any way amusing; it was just how she processed things. He could almost see the whirring cogs in her brain as she tried to figure out the extent of George’s life that was outside her ken.
They’d been best friends for so long that she’d expected, he knew, for things to never change. But Xavier, though he would have loved for things to be different, knew better than most.
No one could be trusted outside of the family.
It was why it was such a big leap being with a woman who didn’t believe that. Truth was, he could only envisage someone being hurt at the end of this.
And, knowing his luck, he’d be the one doing the hurting.
Still, now was not the time for thoughts of such matters. Perry had a way of surprising him. He’d imagined himself being left out in the cold as the relationship between the Princes and the future Crown Princess developed, and yet, she continued to bring him into the fold. To make him know that he was important to her.
Why?
Maybe the answer wasn’t one he’d ever learn… but the question would always burn on the tip of his tongue.
“George has a seat. We all do. Several. Edward more than the rest, of course.” This was said without jealousy; there never had been any kind of envy between the three of them.
It was that, and Perry’s nature, which gave him some small hope for the future.
“Because he’s to be King? I know that seems like an obvious question, but I figured he’d get less ‘seats’ because he’ll have the biggest of them all someday.”
Edward’s lips twitched. “If our ancestors had thought like you, Perry, I’m certain we’d be far richer than we are today.”
“Yes. Common sense and battle strength aren’t necessarily two things that go hand in hand. At least, not in the DeSauvier lineage.”
She smirked. “I guess it’s not to my detriment to be aware of this before I spawn another generation.”
Xavier barked out a laugh. “Spawn? Beautifully phrased, Perry.”
“I’m known for my scientific brain, Xav. Not my romantic, English-Lit origins.” She winked, then turned to look over the house before her. “I’ve only seen this in pictures, but it’s more beautiful than I thought.”
Edward murmured, “I’m glad you think so. It’s to our benefit that you like it here. It will cause less of a fuss if we’re seen to be spending more time here than at Xavier’s estate.”
Perry frowned. “But that’s where he works. He’ll need to be there.”
Xavier placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can run my experiments there and come visit here.”
But she shook her head. “No.”
Edward cocked a brow. “No? No to what, Perry?”
“I don’t know,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest, managing to look more mulish than outright stubborn.
“Then how can you refuse when you don’t know why you’re refusing?” Edward demanded, grimacing at her logic.
“Because Xavier will feel like he doesn’t have a place, that’s why. How would you like it if you had to make excuses to come and see me? You’re the only one who won’t have to, and George has an inbuilt reason to be close to me—he’s my best friend. If anyone questioned it, they could research our background, dammit. I’ve practically lived with him for almost half a decade! But Xavier has no reason. I don’t like that. It’s not fair.”
She was close to pouting, and Xavier, for all his thoughts, had taken a swift dark turn upon leaving Edward’s car. He found that Perry had lifted his mood, and he should have had faith that she would do exactly that.
The connection between them was special. He was relieved to know that he wasn’t the only one feeling that.
It meant he wasn’t out in the cold, and that was what mattered.
For this to work, all four of them had to remain tight-knit, and it seemed Perry was the staunchest supporter of that.
“It’s okay, Perry,” Edward was telling her now. “Xavier and I have always been close. And considering your background in environmental science, and the fact I reckon you’ll be playing an even bigger role in our ecological issues than before… it fits for us to be a tight-knit circle.”
She pursed her lips. “I suppose. But I like Xavier’s estate too. I just meant for us to live here rather than the castle. I don’t like it there,” she admitted, ducking her gaze from Edward’s as though concerned he’d be upset by her revelation.
“Neither do I,” was Edward’s answer, and Perry’s head darted up as she gaped at him.
“Then why the hell do you live there?” She stacked her hands on her hips, irritation bubbling from her pores.
His shrug was easy. “Tradition.”
“Tradition can suck my ass.” She sniffed.
“Why, Perry, if I’d known you were into that, I’d have fallen at your feet sooner,” Xavier retorted silkily, grabbing her around the waist and dipping her to the ground.
She shrieked out a laugh and whacked him on the shoulder. “Put me down, dingbat,” she retorted, but she was chuckling when he helped her back upright.
Edward, benevolently holding court, just smirked when she patted her hair. “He’s right, Perry. George would have helped with that particular fetish too.”
She let out a hiss. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, and it has nothing to do with rimming.”
“Aha,” Xavier declared. “The lady does know more about these things than she cares to let on.”
Perry shot him the stink-eye, and propping her chin in the air, jibed, “And there’s a reason why I want to spend more time with you? Must be a glutton for punishment.”
He laughed, and swept his arm through hers. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“I’m sure there are several,” Edward remarked as Xavier began walking toward the pillared portico.
The sound of the car alarm beeping was followed by the noise of gravel spilling as another vehicle came down the drive.
Edward groaned. “I thought I’d lost them for a little while longer,” he admitted, as they strode up the four marble steps toward the entrance of the house.
It was grand, but small for their standards. With only fourteen bedrooms, he could see why Perry would prefer such a seat instead of the castle.
But, living in places such as Masonbrook was what she’d have to adapt to.
When Philippe passed, that was where they’d have to live.
Either there, as it was close to the capital, or in any of the three other royal residences dotted around the country—each which was just as large, but without the facilities Masonbrook had.
“I wondered where your guards had disappeared to,” Perry confessed as they stepped inside. She peered up at a domed hallway that had the scene of a battle raging up in the heavens gloomily looking over them as she found her bearings.
“Cheerful,” she said, pointing up at the ceiling. “Don’t you just wish, sometimes, that you could get some paint and…?”
Edward laughed. “All the time. Remember my office?”
She blinked. “You mean that was like this?”
“It caused quite a stink. There was a fresco in there that had to be removed. It’s at the National History of Art in Freju now.”
Perry’s mouth rounded. “I like your style, Edward. Although, I guess I’d get more of a fix on that if I’d seen your damned room.” She cut Xavier a glance. “I haven’t seen his or your bedrooms, for that matter. I think that’s so wrong.”
Edward and Xavier just smirked at each other, and that smirk had Perry glowering at them.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you both have dungeons in them or something?”
“Or something,” they repeated at the same time.
She chuckled. “You’re nightmares. You know that?”
Before she could reply, one of Edward’s staff, Jamieson—his head guard—marched toward them. If the vein bulging on his forehead was anything to go by, he was pissed as hell at Edward’s giving them the slip.
“Sir. We agreed. You’d take the Northbound exit.” Jamieson gritted his teeth, and opened his mouth to continue the barrage, but Xavier grabbed Perry’s hand and tugged her away to one of the smaller sitting rooms off the hall.
“Let’s leave Edward to be ass-chewed in peace.”
“We’re obsessed with butts today, aren’t we?” she observed ruefully, peering over her shoulder as she watched Edward, appearing totally unapologetic, as his guard tore into him.
“Why he persists on avoiding them is beyond me. It’s easier just to give in,” Xavier admitted. “It’s one less battle to have to fight on a daily basis.”
“I’m surprised. Considering his father was so concerned when news spread about the UnReals’ numbers having increased,” Perry admitted, her gaze taking in the bright red paneled walls. Cream and matching blood-red brocade surrounded each panel, and gilt trimmed each plate, creating an over-the-top explosion of color.
This room was known as the Music Room for a reason. Where there would ordinarily be artwork and pieces to boggle the mind, there were instruments. Anything from a two-hundred-year-old baby grand, to a Stradivarius on a perch, with a bow tilted just so to entice anyone to play.
There was a cello, a trumpet and a saxophone too. All held in place by specially crafted stands that held them aloft in a way that made them seem as though the instruments were being played.
“Wow,” she said on a low whistle as she took in the twenty different instruments. “Can you guys play any of these?”
Rather than answer, he headed for the cello, took a seat on the ornately tapestried-stool behind it, and picking up the bow, began to play a particularly favored piece of his—“Paint It Black.”
“Rolling Stones?” Perry demanded, eyes wide as she chuckled. “Sacrilege!”
He grinned and carried on playing. “It doesn’t all have to be Bach and Beethoven—though I’m sure the house’s very foundations mourn such days. This place was a firm favorite for a lot of the royals back in
the day. They invited the greatest composers here.
“It’s said Mozart wrote some of his most beloved pieces on this estate when King Gerard invited him to recuperate here after a nasty bout of influenza. Austria’s winters could be very harsh on the delicate artistic temperament.”
She snorted. “Wine, women, and song also didn’t help I’m certain.” She perched on an uncomfortable sofa that was high-backed and stuffed with horse-hair. “Why does Edward fight his guards, Xavier?”
“He doesn’t always,” he admitted. “Just sometimes. It’s a little rebellion, I suppose. Does us all good from time to time. And we were safe. Jamieson knows that. Otherwise he’d never have let Edward into the car alone anyway.”
She pursed her lips as she stared over the room’s contents then looked out onto the gardens ahead. A small, low maze had been crafted out of reams of herb bushes.
Lavender, mint, basil, oregano… they’d all been shaped into tight square blocks. But nature won out here. The odd frond of lavender bobbed and swayed in the wind, as did a rebellious tower of mint as it grew at a faster rate than its neighbors.
“Xavier?”
Her softly-posed question jolted him as he fell into the music. Though he’d teased her with the Rolling Stones, he fell into a darker piece of his own making—its somber tones were underscored by lilts and bouncy crescendos that filled the room with a levity which was unusual in such a serious composition.
“Yes?” he asked, allowing his mind to drift into the piece.
“I love you, you know that?”
With a screech, he stopped playing. Whatever he’d expected her to say, it hadn’t been that.
He blinked at her, his head tilting to the side as he took in her deliciously awkward posture—she looked as uncomfortable as could be. Not just because of the horsehair-stuffed cushions that did nothing to pad one’s butt, but also because she was ill at ease.
He smiled at her though, touched by her words even though her drifting into sentimentality obviously made her uncomfortable. “I know.”
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